


The Hunt

by justatealduck



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Awkward Romance, Confusion, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gay Panic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Divorce, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26733823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justatealduck/pseuds/justatealduck
Summary: It's September the 30th, the day where Patton will start his first supernatural hunt. For what? He doesn't really know, practically anything that catches his eye.And one boy in the forest definitely ticks all the boxes.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders
Kudos: 4





	1. The Very Vague Rules of Hunting (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> HhhhEyyyyYY gUYYSsss. I am so sorry for just disappearing for no reason, but I fell into some serious creativity block. Also, I wanted to rewrite all my old works and have found a formula that works for me, so yay. If anything triggers you, please notify me so I can add it at the beginning. Because this is such a special October (two full moons, one blood moon and one of them being on Halloween in such a disaster as 2020,) this will update every single day. Hope you enjoy!

When going hunting for the supernatural, one must have their equipment.

Though equipment and rules may vary from person to person, it was silently agreed as to what were considered essentials in the paranormal scheme: food and drink, some light source of any kind and cameras or documents for evidence. Afterall, what was the point of a planned trip with no plan behind it?

In a small town called Lilyvn, two boys were very excited for their trip, on September the 30th, 2020, leaving at 5:00pm to 9:00pm and coming back at somewhere between 11:00pm or even 4:50am if they're lucky. 

Now, it may confuse a person outside of their two partner group as to why they picked such a specific date to go hunting, out of all things. And since it was only one day away, why not pick October?

They'll tell you why.

When a person, the majority over here in the West, thinks of anything supernatural or rather terrifying, they'll pick the widely celebrated month of Halloween. Halloween is possibly a hunter's dream. Cryptids, folklores and urban legends usually came from some source of fear, or the unknown, which is an almost natural fear to people. And what could be more fearsome and unknown than Halloween? It was a goldmine of exploration and the hyping up of things like that, when everyone can let down their hair a little and become a bit more dumber by gorging themselves with treats and obsessing over oddly-shaped gourds and inaccurate animal skeleton decorations. But, like someone who buys treats, you never buy them on Halloween, when they're overpriced and out of stock, so you'll be left with those awful gummy and sherbert ones and have to suck it up because you're way too old to be obsessing over spooky season chocolate.

You buy them after Halloween, when shop employees are too lazy to take them down. You rush in there, basket or bag in hand and take the whole stock and soon enough, you'll have a Halloween sweet factory in your house. The same could apply for hunting. With hunting, you do it a few days before to get all the sweet spots for yourself, and a little bit of preparation and planning for the next month of full on investigations. If you chose to only go on Halloween, trick or treaters, drunk party goers and other investigators will be flogging the forests, you'll be too stressed over missing this fabulous holiday, and you'll have no planning and experience beforehand. And then you'll have to wait for another year and get out of practice.

Sucks, doesn't it?

Luckily, the majority could guess that these boys knew what they were doing.

One of the boys, oddly warm and trustworthy for such miserable weather, with cherub curls of dirty blonde hair and freckles that playfully decorated his face, was grabbing a selection of the first of the essentials (listed at first, if you were listening) for their trip. He stopped before the glass door of a small brand coffee shop called Starbucks (you've probably never heard of them,) and paused, as if bracing himself for whatever was inside. He swung open the door, whacked in the face with the overpowering scent of grinding coffee beans, sugar and artificial syrup.

He walked towards the counter, where a young man was busy lamely talking to a screaming woman while scrolling on his phone.

"I'M SURE YOU KNOW WHAT I ORDERED, RIGHT? I SAID IT OUT LOUD MULTIPLE TIMES. A MOCHA CARAMEL FRAPPUCCINO WITH WHIPPED CREAM AND SKIMMED MILK IN A LARGE CUP BUT PUT IN THE QUANTITY OF A MEDIUM SIGNED OFF WITH SUSAN. AND WHAT THE FUCK DO I GET?"

The server, not bothering to peer at her through his sunglasses, not even trying to put effort in the sarcasm, responded, "Wow, ma'am, what?"

"I GET HORSESHIT, THAT'S WHAT! HOW OLD EVEN ARE YOU? YOU'RE A KID- THAT'S EVEN WORSE," she yelled, red-faced. She turned around to the audience, seemingly tired of her gimmick or recording it on their phones. "EVERYONE, LOOK AT THIS. THEY'RE LETTING KIDS WORK AT RESTAURANTS. KIDS THESE DAYS SHOULDN'T EVEN BE TRUSTED WITH THE CUPS! LET ME SPEAK WITH YOUR COWORKER, I WANT AN ADULT TO SERVE ME, THIS INSTANT!"

The hunter walked behind her, catching the attention of the straight faced worker, who immediately brightened up and nudged the woman out of the way, who was stunned, noticed the cameras and dramatically fake fell to the floor. 

"Babe!"

"Remy!"

"So sorry about my face, babes, it's just been a long day for moa, y'know?" He sighed, fanning himself in the most Remy way possible.

"HE JUST ASSAULTED ME! DID YOU SEE THAT?"

"But hey, since it's October soon, I'll get to dress up and all that gig. You'd think I couldn't look even better as a slutty Michael Myers, but like always, I manage to pull it off. Anyway, enough 'bout me, what do you want?"  
"Uh- I think I'll-"

"THIS IS ASSAULT! THIS IS AGAINST WORKER GUIDELINES! I CAN SUE YOU FOR THIS!"

"Wait, wait, lemme guess: Maple tea latte, grande, with whip, 'Patton,' obviously, and apple cinnamon donut with it. And since you're always with him, Caffè Americano, grande, extra shot, 'Vee,' to go, since he's not here?"

"...Are we really that predictable?"

"Aww babes, it's not a bad thing, it's actually kinda cute! It's better for me, anyway. Hand over your card, bitch."

The woman on the floor started weirdly shrieking and trembling like some kind of wind-up toy that fell on the ground. Remy shot her a glare through his tilted down glasses, "Okay, Karen, I'll get you your drink, but you have to behave, okay honey?"

"MY NAME IS SUSAN-"

"Yeah, yeah. Anyways, I'll get right on that, boo. Just wait over there and I'll ring you up and shit."

As the cashiers started awkwardly carrying the screaming woman out, Patton got out his phone and opened up messages. He quietly skipped past the first two and started texting the third contact.

_I'll be there soon. Just getting coffee!_

_oh dude thanks. you didnt have to tho lol i already had some._

_I thought it would be good for the trip!_

_oh yeah you did nothing wrong just wasnt  
expecting it. thanks a bunch_

Patton giddily put his phone down. For some reason, the whole idea of hunting made him so excited and kind of ill. Was it really that good? That practice already was a guilty pleasure as it was, so doing it in practice must be eye-opening.

"Babes! Coffee!"

He got up and grabbed the paper bag from Remy.  
"Tell me about it later, honey. It actually gets boring around here."

"Will do, Remy!"

Patton walked out, the almost Autumn air a pleasant change from the coffee fumes and started heading towards their meetpoint. Though the city may seem overwhelming at first, once you knew a few paths here and there, you could do it with your eyes closed. The nearly identical apartments could be separated by the odd couple of bricks, or the colour of the curtains. This road led to that alleyway, which led to that other road. You get used to the at first intimidating street life until you have joined it.

And it had only been six months since he moved.

He entered one of the many apartment complexes, in the process of being revamped and went up five flights of stairs, bag in hand. After those, he went to the second door to the left, or simply 502, a simple white text over a black door.

He knocked.

"Vee? It's me."

Patton could hear footsteps on the other side.

"I got the coffee."

_Faster footsteps._

The door burst open to reveal "Vee." Most would be taken back by the boy's appearance, since it wasn't the "norm." Tall to the point where it was slightly intimidating, sharp wiry hair that could never look properly brushed no matter what you did to it, gangly limbs with jutting bones under chalky skin, eyebags now permanent on his face and two gaping eyes, one an odd shade of brown and the other an eerie green. The hoodie, half falling apart and covering the majority of the upper parts of his body, already didn't do his face much favours, as it casted a villainous shadow that brightly contrasted his pale face in a sharp cut.

The kind of person that nobody would expect to be with someone like innocent angel Patton Hart. Or with anyone, at all.

"Hey."

"Hi!"

The two stared at each other for a bit, before Patton said, "Can I come in?"

"Oh! What? Yeah, sorry. Come in."

Patton slipped off his white trainers and the two headed towards "the room."

"The room." Was an important place that the two considered a safe haven and a fountain of dedicated research and information. "The room." Could even be sacred to them, and shocking for others. "The room." Was ineffable.

Virgil opened his bedroom door.

Patton walked in and made himself at home, dropping himself on a purple bean bag and staring at all the notes that decorated the floor, bookshelves, tables, lights, bedframe, computer, dresser, walls and ceiling. Tons of information that the two had memorized overtime, dedicated to the unknown and mysterious. And also silly doodles, but that wasn't important. The room smelt of fresh paper, black coffee and the beautiful lavender that hung beside Virgil's bed. Under all the paper, you could see the black walls, the black...pretty much everything except for the purple rug. Patton noticed a familiar plush from the corner of his eye, and grabbed the black spider-cat blob with huge eyes.

Virgil took a seat on his bed, laying back and staring at notes of Mothman on the back of his bed. Patton rummaged through the bag and pulled out the coffee. 

"This is for you-"

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks, Pat."

"No problem!"

Patton pulled out his items and took rather large swigs and bites. He noticed Virgil glancing at him with wide eyes. "Sorry, had practice today."

"Oh, that's fine. You don't have to apologize for eating...uh, how is it?"

Patton sat back, doughnut in hand. "The doughnut, or the training?"

"Never really thought about the both, but it doesn't really matter."

"Doughnut's the usual, silly. And about the football training, it's all the same. Games are coming up, so there's actually guidelines to it all and the players are taking it a tiny bit more seriously. But! How are you?"

Virgil finished sipping. "Me? Uh...I'm good I guess. You good?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Patton finished his drink, dropping it into the black bin by the side of the computer desk. "So, are we going to do this?"

Virgil's secret cute smirk showed it's small face. "What do you think?"

Virgil got out his phone (black with purple details,) typed in a location, and showed Patton the screen.

"It's called Cardinton park, only about twenty minutes from here. I thought we could visit it and see if we could find anything. There have been rumors of something in there, though."

Patton eyed the location, a forest with lush trees that covered all the wildlife underneath. It seemed like just another generic forest, but then again, why would something wanting to be hidden hide somewhere that would make it standout?"

Patton pulled open his bag and brought out the amateur hunting materials he managed to scavenge late at night.

"I have extra batteries if we need any and such; also, I have my camera and film."

"Why a film camera?"

"I just think it'll be cute, y'know? For the aesthetic, and things like that. Plus, think of the memories!  
Virgil did the smirk again. "True. I never thought of that."

He shook his head, and almost comically, grabbed a ridiculously packed bag from behind him and swung it infront of him. He unzipped it carefully and Patton peered into it.

"I got the torches, so we don't have to worry too much about the dark. Camera, notebook, voice recorder-"  
"Why a voice recorder?"

"Incase anything happens," Virgil replied casually.

"Um...what else...oh yeah, headphones, and gauge. I think that's about it."

"That sounded a bit ominous, don'tcha think?"

Virgil shrugged. "Who knows what's there, right?"

"True, that was a pretty silly question now I think about it," Patton sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

"Nah, it's fine." Virgil leaned to his right, opened a drawer, the contents a sea of notes before taking out the newest bunch in hand and shoving it in his bag.

"You ready?"

Patton chuckled. "Obviously!"

The two, after gathering themselves, opened the door and began walking to the bus-stop, chatting about the mundane things in life, like school. And sometimes, a bit of lazy chat with a simple walk on a cold Autumn evening to the bus stop could do more than anything fancy could, Patton knew that for sure.

The bus appeared, an iconic red double decker filled with all kinds of people busy with their lives, and the two stepped inside. Awkwardly shifting between other riders, they made their way to the top and took a seat at the seemingly, and rare, empty top space except for an old man in a green raincoat slumped in his chair.  
From outside, the tired wheels hissed, and began to make their way to the other stop. Trees, buildings and people flew by in a blur of reds and yellows, slightly reflecting on Patton's glasses. Virgil put in his headphones, and started listening to music.

"Can I…?"

Virgil, the red tint of blush appearing behind his white contoured face, stared at Patton. "Are you sure? I'm not sure if you'll like it,"

"It's okay if you don't want me to-"

"No, no! It's just a bit odd, and I don't think it's really your style. But, if you want to…" Virgil offered out an earbud.

Patton took it and inserted it in his ear. "Well nothing's wrong with trying new things, right?"

Heavy alternative rock music began blasting in his ear.

But, if Patton was honest? It wasn't bad at all. In fact, it was actually pretty good. He began bobbing his head and even singing to the music, out of time and a totally different mood than what was playing.

If you saw Patton Hart at the back of a bus happily bopping his head, you'd think he's listening to something like Cavetown, or Dodie, or Alec Benjamin.

You wouldn't think it was something like Bring Me To Life by Evanescence.

It was truly bizarre.

As the playlist continued, Virgil began slowly joining in on the fun, shyly mumbling the words until the two were singing (though at different volumes) practically all of Black Parade, Paramore and MayDay Parade.  
As they finally arrived at their destination, and the sun had begun to set, they arrived at Cardinton, the one old man glaring at them as they walked off and began walking towards their hunting ground.

Cardinton itself seemed like Lilyvn, but five times as big and modern with ten times the budget. Oxford Street seemed like every street here, with crowds of people flocking into fashion, book and party shops that all seemed ambiguously high end. Restaurants left their doors wide open, the smells of different food mixing in the bustling city air and hung under the clear night sky. The two awkwardly pushed themselves between shoppers and locals, following the directions of Google Maps until they reached their destination.

It seemed neverending, areas faded into one another and stretched far into the distance, they had to compensate for having such a large area of just city buildings and highstreet shops. Apart from three random cars and the ice-cream van that looked the same from the image, it was vacant and silent. Though, since it was colder than usual, and it was Autumn, people were probably doing something like getting pumpkin spiced drinks or watching trashy TV with the radiator on.

"Gosh, it definitely looks bigger."

"Yeah, yeesh. Are you ready?"

Patton nodded.

The two started their walk, covered by the shadows from thick branches rich with red leaves. Fallen leaves that had fallen from them coated the dirt forest floor, that looked just the right kind of dry coated their shoes quickly. Patton gleefully stepped on one, and like predicted, it made possibly one of the most joyful sounds of the season. With every step he took, he tried to reach for the best looking ones possible. Trudging between leaves and twigs, they found the fallen down trunks of trees, or poorly attempted dens with the twigs that rested at the side,) and took a place there on the rough bark. Virgil got out the notes and spread them on their temporary seats.

"So, I was thinking about trying to look for something generic, so like any kind of ghost, spirit, thing like that? Tell me."

"Got it. Should we, y'know, like split up or something?"

"Pat, have you watched any horror movie?"

"Well, yeah, kind of."

"The number one rule is that we don't split up, okay?"

"Okay."

"Now, I think we can wait for a bit until the sun sets. They tend to come up then."

"Should we play, like, a game or something? I have a book of crosswords in my bag."

"You use crosswords?"

"I just think they're neat."

"That's actually...pretty cool."

Patton rummaged through his bag and pulled out a puzzle book of some random newspaper brand and his school pen and flipped to a random page. The two began filling it out slowly, the sun quickly dying in the distance.

"What on Earth is a wading bird?"

"Pat, it's in the name."

"But still! Alot of birds can wade! Not just this random, five letter one!"

After multiple failed attempts, the two settled to kicking and stepping on crunchy leaves, listening to playlists, and after serenading so hard to the point of exhaustion, lay back on the tree.

"Do you think that trees can hear things? So if they see a bunch of kids they can think "oh look, there's children. I'm a tree!" or something like that?"

"I don't know. Maybe. We'll just have to find that out, won't we?"

"I wonder what they're thinking right now."

Virgil looked off into the distance, seeing the sun had properly set and got up.

"I think it's time."

Patton got up. "Really?"

"Really. You got your camera at the ready?"

Patton showed his camera in hand, and Virgil nodded. "Alright, let's get this started."

They went further into the woods, until it was like being in an unknown land that was worlds apart from theirs. Every sound was amplified, every shadow could be a person, and the ground beneath them melted away, leaving any trap anywhere. The two equipped their torches, the pale yellow light shining directly in front of them as they looked around for anything suspicious. Patton held his camera like some kind of weapon, at the ready and poised. Meanwhile, Virgil had his hands shoved in his pockets and looked like this was a daily strole and knew the place off by heart. Patton gasped as his torchlight shone on something.

"Vee, look!"

Virgil turned around to see the sight. A ring of mushrooms, red and brown, in the middle of a plain field.

"Don't step in it."

"Why?"

"Fae."

"What could they do?"

"Alot."

"...Can I take pictures?"

"Yeah, it's really neat for a circle."

Patton got out his camera and took a few shots at different angles before going back.

"Sorry I took so long, it was just really cute."

"No problem, we still have a lot of time."

A loud sound came from behind them and the two jumped, turning behind them only to find nothing.  
"What was that?" Patton said to Virgil.

"I don't know."

"Do you want to find out?"

Virgil, eyes somehow wider like a cats, startled by the loud noise turned back to Patton. "...Yeah, maybe."

Patton noticed something slip out of the corner of his eye. A shadow of someone, or something.

"Virgil, look!"

He ran towards the area, trampling leaves and torch light flailing wildly. Virgil still rooted to the spot. "Pat, wait-!"

Patton felt the ground beneath him fall. 

The words and screams disappeared, knocked out by the wind and he fell, folding himself up by instinct, collapsing at the bottom of a pit.

Something, one hundred percent, snapped once he reached the bottom.

He groaned, feeling his left side bruised and dirty, his glasses probably broken. 

And his leg. With blind hands, he felt that it was twisted beyond compare.

But not for him, of course.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, inhaled, and pushed it back in, biting a cry and drew large unsteady breaths, trying to calm himself down. He moved his toes, then his foot, and then his lower leg; it was trembling, but it should be good soon enough.

He looked up, seeing an endless void above him, pitch black and deadly silent. He blinked, rubbing his eyes, and grabbed his glasses.

He was stuck at the very bottom of a very wide pit, even greater in depth that looked about hundreds of years old. The crumbling stone walls were solid like cement bricks, but provided him no grip to climb up normally. It looked like some sort of odd well.

"Patton! Patton! Shit, are you down there? Please tell me! Please!"

Oh my God, did he really just forget about the boy who he travelled with? He looked up, and lo and behold, Virgil was above the pit, desperately peering in (of course, he couldn't see anything.) Patton grabbed his torch, and shone it upward to signal his friend.  
"Yeah, Virgil, I'm okay! Calm down, I'm, alright! I promise, just stay calm."

"Holy shit- thank God. I was so worried that you'd- you'd-"

"Virgil, I promise I'm fine. Just take deep breaths, you know the ones. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight." Patton half yelled, counting the seconds with the breathing of his friend. 

He could hear the erratic breaths of his friend slowly calm down to a slightly better level.

"How did you- what even is this thing?"

"I don't know either, but I'll try and see if I can get out. Have you got your torch?"

Virgil disappeared from sight for a few seconds, before appearing with his torch and trying to turn it on. After it didn't, he slapped it a few times.

"Why won't this-!"

"Hey, hey, Virge, Virge, it's okay, I promise. Just try to keep calm. It's going to be okay."

Virgil closed his eyes, paused for a few seconds and sighed.

"I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm not, see?" Patton shone the light on himself, reckoning it will calm him down.

Instead, Virgil started panicking again.

"You're- you're-"

Patton started panicking, eyes wide. "...What?"

Virgil motioned to the side of his head. "Your-"

Patton didn't have to see it to know what it was.  
Afterall, it was one of the only things he could smell: coiny, beckoning and lingering, no matter how many times you tried to wash it away. But to him, it still felt so different and varied from person to person, to animal.

He still reached up, touched the side of his face with the tips of quivering fingers, and put them in front of him. His fingers, damp with dark red, warm and sweet.

_Oh._

His torch powered off, leaving them in total darkness. 

_Shit._

He couldn't start freaking out, not when he already had somebody worrying about him. He frantically brushed the wound with his hand and put it on his jeans, weakening it but making it spread. He fumbled for his bag, he carried extra batteries-

Fuck. He left his bag at the tree.

_Why was he such an idiot all the time?_

"Hey, Virgil, it's okay, it's not a big wound! It's just a scratch! Have you got the extra torches?" Patton called out. The end of the words turned scratchy like a stuck record. He clasped his mouth, praying to God, even though he knew he was a sinner, to help him in this situation.

Virgil fumbled through his bag, and pulled out a torch. He turned it on quickly, shining the light down at the pit.

Okay, Patton, stop thinking about yourself for one minute and help the poor guy. "Good. Can you...reach my hand?"

Virgil leaned downward, and Patton stood on the tips of his toes. With just enough height, Patton clasped the warm, soft grasp of Virgil's hand. He could feel the trembling and the pulsing and bit the inside of his mouth to try and compose himself.

"Okay, now up."

Virgil tugged at Patton, who tried to heave himself up with a bit of hesitation. Virgil's arm, perfect in position for Patton who tried not to cry, quivered and let go.  
"I can't, I can't pull hard enough-"

Patton heard the rustling of leaves behind Virgil. Slow, steady and anonymous to the source.

"Virgil, behind you!"

Virgil turned, and he vanished from Patton's point of view.

Patton could feel someone there, or something. He couldn't exactly pinpoint it down from the adrenaline and anxiety building up and blocking him thinking coherently.

_Well, if it tried to touch Virgil, Patton would just have to fight, won't he?_

Virgil came back into view, unharmed.

And so did another person.

The first thing Patton noticed about them was their eyes. They were a bit like his, a mix of two; but instead of being the foamy sea green his was, they were royal blue that were so dark they looked like a curious shade of purple. Their eyes hid behind a rectangular set of glasses, smart and uniform like the shirt he was wearing. Their hair, a simple black cut short, rested in the top of his head, that complemented his pale skin. The guy definitely looked older than the two, and Patton could smell alcohol off of them.

But that's not what mattered.

What mattered was the general energy from this guy. Because that guy wasn't human. At all. He had some kind of presence to Patton that made him want to vomit, punch him and hug him. It felt so familiar, like he was meeting an old friend after a long time despite the fact he'd never seen this guy in his life. 

It was also dangerous.

If it could talk, it was snarling at him like some kind of rabid creature, and Patton knew full well that nobody else had had this affect on him. It was jumping around like some kind of swarm, making Patton's head sway, barely compressed under the surface.

_Who even are they?_

"He's down there, I just can't pull him out."

"I can see that. Is he concussed in any way?"

"Uh...no, I don't think so."

"Right. I'll see what I can do."

Moments later, the stranger leaned down and offered out his hand to Patton. He stared at it in hesitance, and then glared up at him.

The stranger, cooly, glared right back.

Patton grabbed his hand. It was icy cold, and for a split second, so were his eyes, digging straight into his soul. 

Patton just looked back into them.

With little to no struggle, the stranger pulled him up and left him on the forest floor.

He coughed, his head groggy. He glanced up to see the stranger still glaring at him, but next to another stranger, holding a phone with the torch on. His hair was just as messy, a light coppery brown, with tan skin and hazel almond eyes that were nearly shut from exhaustion. His breath reeked of alcohol, and the hoodie he wore smelt even worse.

"Are you guys okay?" Said the one in the hoodie, his words slightly slurred. 

"Yes, thank you so, so much for that. I'm so, so sorry."

"None taken." Spoke the one in glasses. His voice was like if ice had its own. Cold, correct and cutting. "It's not your fault that the park guards don't care enough about the limepit or if any tourists fall down and hurt themselves in it."

"...Is there anything we can do-"

"No, I'm sure we'll be fine. You have no need to stress out over payment."

"Thank you, so so much."

"No problem. You shouldn't keep on apologizing so much."

Patton shot him a stare, to which the stranger shot him one harder that read "I would kick your ass if there wasn't these two here."

God, he hated him already.

"I'm guessing we should exchange names, since it's a common thing to do."

"Oh, yeah, I'm, um, Virgil. That's Patton."

"Patton, huh?" Patton, in question, still stared at him. "Well, Virgil, my name is Logan. And this," he gestured to the other boy, "is Roman."

Patton, about to spit the words back, composed himself, remembering that Virgil was here. He mustered up his best smile, and sweetest charming voice and responded, "Nice to meet you, Logan."

"The pleasure's mine, Patton."

After a tense few seconds, Roman started walking off. "Well, guess that's sorted out. See y'all round."

"Oh, yeah right. Uh, bye, I guess."

Logan didn't respond, simply grabbing Roman by the hoodie and pulling him along like it was some kind of leash. "Roman, you're drunk, slow down."

"Well, yeah, but it's freezing!"

Logan glanced back at Patton before the two carried on walking into the night, leaving the two other boys wordless.

Virgil coughed. "I think we should, uh, head back."

"...Yeah."

The two started walking back, not wanting to talk, before they came upon their bags. Still not uttering a word, they grabbed them and walked until they saw the cars and the ice-cream van. Virgil pulled out his phone and checked the time.

9:45.

_That early?_

They started the walk to the bus-stop, their noses and ears a bright pink from the cold.

From the corner of his eye, Virgil noticed the blonde shivering in his thin jacket, probably already a bit shaken up from the accident.

Virgil looked over at the smaller of the two, and offered his coat. Patton's eyes widened and his cheeks turned the same colour as his ears.

"Oh, absolutely not."

"I'll be fine, really. I don't mind the cold."

"But you'll-"

Patton saw the look in Virgil's eyes. He sighed, and gestured his arms up. Virgil glanced at him for a few seconds, before he slipped the large black sweater on Patton, swallowing him in the hoodie.

Virgil couldn't help but snicker.

Patton also laughed, admiring the action. "It's comfy."

_It smells like him._

"Yeah, they're best baggy," Virgil responded, slipping his arms into his trouser pockets. "The ones they have in shops are just scams."

"Agreed."

With less people, but still a rather large crowd, they reached the stop and waited, not trying to talk until it came and the two rode a silent journey at the very back of the top, the once blurs of colour now just an empty dark blue void.

_Kind of like 'Logan's' eyes._

Patton tutted, and played with the material on his seat.  
Whoever that...asshole was, wasn't trustworthy. They could be some kind of criminal or creep, doing what Patton never wanted to do, or would do. But, this was different. That lowlife could just spring out and attack anyone at any second. How could they trust him? He could be even more sick than that woman who marked him.

Marked Patton, just like what she probably did to him, huh?

 _Well, Logan._ Patton thought to himself as the bus screeched to a halt, his glasses reflecting the night sky. _I guess I'm just going to have to catch you myself then, aren't I?_


	2. Sixteen Hours and Sixteen Minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan plans his day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops sorry I'm such an idiot guys, thank you for sticking with me. School and stuff is kicking my ass, and my connection timing out yesterday didn't help. Hope you enjoy!

Logan hated alcohol.

Not that he had anything against people who drank, but the risks of cardiomyopathy, anemia, stroke, blood clots and so, all for a sit down over a sour drink and a forgettable night that made you look like a fool?

It wasn't for him, thank you very much. Logan would rather die than become an alcoholic.

Also, he was still underage.

So, out of places you might expect Logan to have been probably wasn't at an underage party for Toni Keleman's 17th birthday where it might aswell could have been Hollywood's version of the Dionysus' Cult last night.

Even when he woke up the next day, he could still feel his head ringing from the speakers blasting Newsies all night long. He groaned, holding his head and ruffled his jet black hair. At least Roman wouldn't bother him today, since he was probably suffering from the world's worst hangover.

Oh yeah, it was the first.

He groaned even louder, collapsing back into his plain white bed. That would explain the headache and why he felt so stiff. Thank God he took the school day off: he'd barely be able to pick up a pen, let alone go through a whole school day with some of the people in his class. After fumbling for his glasses, he picked up his phone off his bedside table, and went on the calendar app. 

It was 5:49, so he had precisely…sixteen hours and sixteen minutes to spare (how coincidental,) but probably needed ten minutes to sort himself out. He tried to move, but exhaled through closed teeth when his body felt like it was going to collapse. He stared up at the blank white ceiling, just like the walls, and tutted at himself.

_Come on, Logan_. He mumbled to himself. _Just get out of the bed. You cannot spend all day wasting around like some sick little child. Get up._

_Now._

He got up, tried to ignore the cracking of his bones and started getting his outfit for the day: just a simple NASA shirt and rather baggy trousers in case anything happened. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and sighed. God, he looked awful. His eyebags had gotten even worse, his skin had an ill pasty complexion and there were several visible spots on his face. His hair was no great matter either, like he had dragged it on the floor and fell asleep on a rock. To be honest, that would be better than his current predicament. 

The room felt just as hazy and grey, though it was already very simple. Logan wasn't much of one for personal décor, so aside from the rows and rows of books, his desk and laptop and the few old glow in the dark stickers he had since he was six, there was practically nothing to say about the room. He got his watch and set the timer, ticking down slowly like grains of sand.

With a loud yawn, he tried his best to clean himself up in the bathroom and went downstairs to make breakfast for himself. He was up, and there was no point trying to go back to sleep (especially now.)

Logan actually rather liked baking. 

Roman was the one who got him into it, insisting that "you cannot eat food that plain." And, to be fair, after trying different things, Logan was certainly getting into the swing of things. Sure, baking wasn't the healthiest and majority of pastries, bread and cakes were loaded with calories, and most would assume someone like him wouldn't be into it ("isn't that a girls thing?" or "I thought you were more manly" were some of the more... _savoury_ responses.)

(Oh my God, he just made a pun, didn't he?)

It was a simple recipe, but he was starving and couldn't bother to make something more extravagant. He knew the recipe off by heart. He had always used it when it was days like this, where he was miserable and needed something to feel a little better, and to also help with his collapsing state.

When frying eggs, he heard slippered feet slowly plod through the corridor and he turned around from the stove.

"Hello, Miss Berry."

She snorted, dressed in an old grey robe with a pack of cigarettes. "You don't have to call me that, Lo. It's been years."

"Right, my apologies," he replied.

She went to the kettle, lazily filled it up with tap water and turned it on. She pulled apart the bone white blinds and the grey morning light hit her face at a sharp angle.

Many of the flats were just like hers, simple and plain. There was nothing wrong with it, and all the people there had come to a silent agreement that simple was better at times. Whoever bragged about some boring decorations that had a few zeros attached at the end at an attempt to talk clearly was not worth listening to, is what she told him repeatedly when he was younger. And whoever talked about money while hoarding it like some kind of fantasy dragon was probably one of the dullest people on Earth. Besides, who could even live with the idea that they could have so much money to do so many great things and do nothing about it?

"Is Erica asleep?"

"Oh, you know that girl. Like a rock she is. She just falls into her bed and she's automatically out." she responded. "And what is a young man like you doing up at this time?"

"I just felt like waking up early."

"At five in the morning to make a galette?" She pointed at the pan. "I understand preparing for school, but it's only a ten minute drive, not three hours." 

"...I thought that I might as well be productive if I wake up."

She grabbed the now boiling kettle. "Well, I can't argue with that, can I?"

She got out her mug. "Do you want a cup?"

"I can't exactly say no, can I?"

She smirked and got out a second cup. He finished his galette and slid it on a plate. The two sat in a content silence, drinking tea and eating galette. Outside, the clouds had started to bunch and gentle rain trickled down the open windows. After they had finished, she got up and started doing the dishes.

"Is it okay if you manage Erica for the day? I'll be at a meeting until eleven."

_God dammit._ "Hm? Oh, that's fine."

"Thanks, darling" she commented. "Try not to be too loud, Logan."

"I won't, I promise."

He went upstairs, and opened up his laptop. His eyes flickered to the time. _Sixteen hours and five minutes to go._ His phone, annoyingly, pinged and Logan checked the notification. 

_hey, hot stuff._

Logan sighed, suppressing a chuckle, and hammered back.

_Roman, I'm not in the mood._

_yeahh but whyyyyyyyy? also are you going to school today._

_*?_

_oh shut up, nerd._

_To answer your question, no, I'm not._

_why._

_*?_

_logan i swear to god shshshsjjsjsjshs_

_I'm busy today, and I already arranged it with the staff._

_yeah well im not going either so we can hang._

_No, go get some rest. You're probably hungover._

_no <3 you think that ill get knocked out by that cheap waste? there i added the question mark just for you_

Logan groaned, and got his homework notification up. He busily started typing on his English essay, too busy thinking about debates and additional marks instead of the time. He could slowly hear it tick down, like some kind of looming time bomb, with every second, every minute and every hour that passed. No amount of English essays, French revision (he already knew how to speak it, he was French afterall,) or even maths could distract him from the time slowly trickling down to the inevitable.

He checked it again. _Fourteen hours and five minutes left._

He heard the familiar childlike footsteps of Erica head towards the kitchen.

"Have you packed your bag, Erica?"

"Mhm."

"Breakfast is on the table. Try to eat quickly, but don't get any milk on your shirt, okay?"

"Okay, mum."

Logan pulled out his headphones and started playing an audiobook. They made everything seem smoother and a bit easier for this day, and he had not yet finished this one.

_For this task, we need the best that science has to offer at sifting signals from noise, and deciding how to respond when the evidence is unclear._

Logan felt his eyes start to close.

_All relationships depend on an ability to read between the lines- to judge when it matters even if someone says it doesn't, or when something might not seem important but it really is._

His head slowly started to rest on the desk.

_To make these precise judgements, we need to fine-tune our understanding of evolutionary biology, acknowledging where our differences stem from, and how a relationship between people will evolve over time, just as our bodies did from a single cell. And we can benefit from fuzzy logic (yes, that's the technical term), as a framework for judging a decision when there is no black-and-white, yes-or-no answer; and for managing the inevitable conflicts that crop up in any human relationship._

He got up, realising that he was so close to drifting off he could have overslept and messed up the timing. He looked at the time again. _Fourteen hours and thirty two minutes._ He sighed in relief. Erica and May would be gone by now, so he had the house to himself. He stretched in his chair, still feeling awful.

And then the sound of the doorbell rang.

_Probably the newspaper_ , he thought, and walked downstairs.

He swung open the door to find Roman.

"What-"

"Did you think I wasn't going to come over?"

Logan sighed and stared at his boyfriend.

"I told you I was busy."

"That's bullshit."

The two of them stared at eachother for a while, before bursting into snickers.

"Alright, come in then."

The two settled down on the sofa (of course in the gay way, nobody sits on the sofa normally other than straight people,) and began talking.

"So, why did you exactly want to come here?"

Roman thought for a second, and then blindly responded, "I don't know."

"Do you ever really think?"

"...No."

Roman got a pillow flung at his face, stunned by the impact of the feather filled pillow.

"Aside from that, I figure we should find something to do-"

Logan got hit right back with it.

He stared up at his smirking boyfriend, the biggest grin on his face. Logan hit him back, to which Roman got the pillow and whacked him with it three consecutive times, only to get hammered in the stomach by Logan. Hair turned messy, pillows turned saggy, and the two of them ended up a happy, laughing mess.

"Do you know how Toni is? I don't think they're too great after last night."

"They're absolutely hammered. Like, can't get out of bed hammered. Also their parents are pissed."

"That makes sense; the place was an absolute disaster!"

"Okay, just because we knew how to party doesn't mean it was a complete disaster!"

"There was a threesome in the cupboard under the stairs."

"You shouldn't kinkshame, Logan! They might be into that kind of thing."

"I saw Yousef scream, vomit, and collapse, landing in the vomit, and Isabel yell "gone, gone! He is dead," and stepped on his fainted person."

"Yousef cannot handle drinks, you know that. He was the wreck in that party."

"It was a cult, not a party."

"Oh, please don't tell me you think that Dionysus' Cult was all fun and games. They got themselves so drunk that they went into a frenzy, ripped apart a live animal and ate it's flesh. It wasn't a nightclub."

"That's exactly my point." 

"Well I didn't see any goat ripping, did I? Oh! I just thought. You have those new historical dramas on film, right?"

"Yes, I do."

"Why don't we give them a whirl?"

Logan got the remote and scrolled through the options, pressing on one as episode one began to play. "Are you sure? This will take a while."

"Yes, I'm sure, four eyes! What's the point of getting something if you're not going to watch it?"

Logan sighed, a small smile crossing his face. "True."

About a dozen episodes later, the two of them burst into cackles when the main actress appeared in her ball gown, the apparent showstopper in the series.

"OH MY JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR, WHAT IS THAT? SERIOUSLY, WHAT IS THAT?"

"The-the colours, the corset, the bustle... it's-it's all wrong. They managed to get none of this right. This is all wrong."

"WAIT, WAIT, LOGAN, LOOK- LOOK"

"Where do I look?"

"LOOK AT, LOOK AT THE NECKLINE- LOOK AT THE NECKLINE-"

The two started laughing themselves to the point of tears, wheezing all the air out of their lungs and half crying.

"I think- I think we should stop, Roman."

"Why? It's getting to the good part?"

"I think we've wasted way too much time on...this."

"We can always watch something else, if you want…"

Roman's chatter turned into nonsense as Logan checked the time. 

_Seven hours and eighteen minutes left._

"I have to go get Erica soon."

"Doesn't your mother pick her up?"

"She's at a meeting, so not for today, no."

"Well, you know I can stay-"

"Right now? Seriously?"

"Well...maybe…"

Logan, once again, groaned. "...I'll get the keys."

The two got into the car, and drove the familiar root to Erica's school in silence, except for the humming from Roman and the small sound of rain hitting the windscreen.

"Jeez, you have any good songs here?"

"We are not listening to Newsies again."

"Okay, what about Mean Girls?"

"As long as it's not Sexy, fine."

Roman got out his phone, went on Spotify, clicked a song and turned it up on full volume.

"...Hi. If I could change the World-"

"Roman, for Darwin's sake-"

Roman snorted at Logan's annoyed face. A rather cute secret Logan didn't show was the pout and eyeroll he did when he was annoyed which was, take it from Roman, adorable.

"We have to pick up Erica and I'm not having you play anything like Heathers or Sweeny Todd in the car."

"Alright, alright, I have something in mind, don't worry."

The school bell rang, and almost immediately, kids burst out the doors and went rushing to their parents. Roman waved wildly at Erica, to which she hurried towards the car.

"Hey Erica!"

"Roman!"

"Yep, it's me alright! How was school?"

"Really, really boring."

"Aww, really?"

"Yeah, I almost fell asleep."

Logan did the eyeroll again. As Logan started to drive back, and Roman quickly started scrolling on his phone. After he frantically pressed on the song and turned the volume up to the top, he took a very obviously fake deep breath and began screaming The Circle of Life. Erica cackled and joined in.

You probably wouldn't have thought that a hyper seven year old and an idiot could sound so charming, even to Logan.

The car pulled up, and almost instantly, Erica got out and rushed to the apartment, waiting at the door until the other two reached the top. Practically at the same moment Logan unlocked the door, Erica pushed open the door, landed on the sofa and said, "Please can we watch The Lion King?"

Logan looked at her directly in the eyes, and she summoned them to be as big and pleading as possible. He sighed.

"Have you got any homework?"

She shook her head.

"...I'll go make the popcorn."

Erica cheered and Logan, though he wouldn't admit it, smiled as he got out the bag of popcorn kernels. Roman and Erica excitedly chattered about Disney and music while Logan got out the popcorn maker (a special machine they only occasionally used,) and Erica ran towards it, fascinated by how the kernels popped.

Soon enough, all three of them sat on the sofa with a bowl of chocolate covered popcorn as the familiar animated sun began rising. After it was over, and Erica had gone off to her room to practice her recorder (“Miss Blight said I could perform my own song if I practice,” she had insisted,) and the two were left downstairs, picking up stray popcorn pieces underneath seats. Logan checked his watch.

_Four hours and forty five minutes left._

"I am assuming I should start dinner then," Logan commented, quickly stopped by Roman.

"I'm making dinner, Lo. You can go revise, or whatever you do."

"But-"

"No buts, four eyes!" Roman hushed. "I'll take care of it."

Logan folded his arms. Roman gave him that look.

"Can you promise not to burn the flat down?"

"Excuse you, I have unrivaled cooking skills compared to anyone in this building!" Roman snapped. "Just shush, and let me handle it, okay?"

"...Alright."

Roman smirked and gave Logan a light kiss on the cheek. Logan tutted.

"Do you know how overly sentimental you are?"

"I know all too well."

Logan went down the corridor and into his room, slowly closing the door behind him. What was there to do with free time? He hadn't really had "a break" for ages, since he felt like they were wastes of time. He scanned his bookshelf for something to pick out. After much consideration, he pulled back a first layer of books and got out one of them from the second layer. He lazily scanned the front cover. Murder On The Orient Express by Agatha Christie?

A good choice. Though he hadn't touched it since Year Eight.

He got out the book and started reading, right from page one.

_It was five o'clock on a winter's morning in Syria._

Logan skipped over the words like they came naturally to him. Though he already knew what happened, he couldn't help but reminisce over when he first picked the book of the shelves. 

Then he thought about what he was like when he was thirteen and grimaced. Those times are long gone, and thankfully so, he thought to himself as Poirot entered the luncheon cart late. 

As the time flew by, Logan could smell what seemed like dough and cheese and decided to go to investigate in the kitchen. I hope he hasn't burnt anything down, Logan mumbled to himself.

In fact, it was quite the opposite when he saw Roman casually doing the dishes and a pizza baking in the oven, almost done.

Roman noticed Logan behind him and grinned widely. "Not so bad am I now?"

"It is just pizza."

Roman did a high Prince-like noise, some sort of signal he did when he was offended. "Well I beg your pardon, but I made this with my own blood, sweat and tears!" He pointed a rubber spatula at Logan. "And, I can assure you, I can and will make the best pizza you'll ever taste!"

Logan glanced at it and then back at Roman "Isn't that an opinion?"

"Oh, it's a fact, bitch." Roman replied. The oven pinged and after slipping on an oven glove, Roman pulled out a pizza happily bubbling with melted mozzarella and topped it off with basil. 

With a little too much ease, he slipped it onto a wood board and asked Logan, "Have you got a pizza cutter?"

"I don't believe so."

"Erica! I got dinner!" Roman called.

Erica walked out of her room and flounced down onto the table. When the table was properly set, Roman cut pieces of all of them (and had to improvise with a knife,) and quickly slipped onto their plate. 

Logan took a bite, as did Erica as Roman watched their reaction.

The guy wasn't lying when he said he could make good pizza.

Erica just carried on eating without talking (a very good sign for someone like Erica,) while Logan had to sit there with Roman's expression throughout the whole meal. The pizza was promptly devoured and plates, mats and trays out away. She disappeared again, this time to have a bath.

"Mum says you have to be in bed by eight, okay?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Feeling exhausted isn't the best thing, Erica."

"Fine," she groaned, slinking to the bathroom.

"Try not to use up all the soap this time."

"I'll try not to." She jeered back.

As soon as the door closed, Roman went up to Logan.

"What, Roman?"

"It's nothing…"

"It's clearly something."

Roman pulled out two flasks from his bag. "Snagged them from the party."

"Roman, no."

"Roman, _yes,_ " he mimicked.

"You literally just got pissed last night, how- why would you do this?" Logan squinted.

Roman giggled. "I'm joking, silly. I know you don't like drinks, so I got you this instead." He flicked open the lids to reveal kombucha inside.

Logan whacked him on the back of his head, but that didn't stop Roman. The theatre kid gave him a bottle and, with some hesitance, Logan drank. 

"So, how's your mother?"

Roman sighed. "She's getting better, I guess. She's trying to get out more often, which is good, I guess."

"Is it alright if you tell her I said hello? I hope she's in the right state of mind."

"Yeah, I will. Is May, well, okay?"

"Oh, she's doing fantastically, you have no need to worry about her, Roman."

The two drank in silence, quickly finishing the contents.

"...Do you want to finish the series?"

"We have to be quiet because Erica needs her sleep, though." Logan got the remote and finished off the remote. This time, even though the dialogue was awful and the outfits even worse, they watched without speaking a word. A calm, serene mood with warm radiators, and his boyfriend by his side. Logan felt his head rest on Roman's shoulder, in a quietly happy moment. Roman turned to him and smiled, to which Logan returned. Slowly but surely, they came closer and kissed, lost in the beauty of the moment. Logan opened his left eye and saw the light on his arm.

Six minutes left.

_Six minutes._

He got up and turned on the lights. "Roman, I apologize, but you have to leave."

Roman confused, looked up. "What, why?"

"Please, Roman, go. It's my request."

His confused boyfriend complied, but awkwardly collected his stuff. "Was it me, or-"

"Roman, please just leave." Logan practically pushed him out the door.

"Yeah, bit wh-"

" _Leave_."

Logan closed the door in his face. Frantically, he rushed to his bedroom door, swung it open and grabbed his essentials. He locked it from the outside so that May thought he was just sleeping, and didn't bother putting on shoes as his feet hit concrete and grass. He rushed outside to the shared garden by the flats. With shaking fingers, he tried to unlock the shed.

"Come on, come _on-_ "

It opened with a creak and he slammed it shut and locked it shut. With fumbling hands, he got himself ready and waited with bated breath in the shed, the only light source from his watch.

_One minute._

Pathetically, he felt himself start to weep (luckily not wearing his glasses,) as the salty liquid dropped to the floor. God, he was a mess. He couldn't cry now. He couldn't act like a fool now. His breath caught up and he started to choke.

_Just try to think happy thoughts, Logan. Happy thoughts._

Roman.

_Just try to think of Roman, of Erica, of mum, just- try to keep positive._

His breathing slowed down but tears still fell from his face slowly, as he saw the seconds slowly fall down.

_Three seconds, two seconds, one second..._

The alarm rang, and everything turned silent.

\---

Roman sighed once he entered the pitch black home. The electricity probably timed out. He flicked off his shoes.

“ただいま。”

No response. _Of course_.

He took of his jacket and went to his bedroom, not bothering to change.

_What was wrong with that kiss? Was it him? Was it them both?_

_It probably was him, wasn't it?_

He moaned, rolling over in his bed.

He got out his phone and started mindlessly scrolling, hoping that he could get some relief from seeing some celebrity take another picture of some random coffee cup or something.

Instead, he got a text message alert from somebody he hadn't heard of in a long time.

Curious, he clicked the notification.

_meet me at the old playground after school. i think youll want to see this._


	3. And Now, Your Typical Movie D̶a̶t̶e̶ Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil invites Patton over for a movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, schoolwork is kinda kicking my ass and as a procrastinator this is not good. I am so so sorry!
> 
> This chapters contains self harm, the f slur, breakdowns, and mentions of child abuse. If I missed anything, please tell me and I will change it pronto.

Patton slept in the garage.

It wasn't as bad as you think it would be. He had heating, a cute little space and his own personal belongings. His room was also cold in the Autumn and Winter, and who liked that? All he needed was a bed, a light, something to keep him warm and occupied, and it was a safe haven for him. Besides, it also served its purpose as a storage room, so all kinds of things he forgot about (or were cool in general,) could keep him busy.

His eyes fluttered open to the garage ceiling, or more like a white blur. He rubbed his eyes and grabbed his round glasses by the side of his bed (or sleeping bag with a car pillow, if we were being technical.) He grabbed his charging phone and checked the time.

3:12

Oh..he missed the school day. Well, that was just his mistake, wasn't it?

He sighed and turned over on his bed. He still wanted to sleep. Sleep was a nice thing. You could just collapse someone safe and comfy, and you can forget about everything happening with real life consequences. 

Some dreams were also great as well. 

If he slept forever, he wouldn't mind it. He imagined it would feel rather bubbly, like going underwater in a bubble bath, wrapping you in warmth and comfiness as you slowly drifted away and the sounds around you began unambiguous noises until nobody could see or hear you. Sleep, and nothing could hurt you. Sleep, and maybe you can forget about real life stuff. He often did it when he wanted to...you know, he could sleep right now.

Just a few hours, and it would go away, right?

He grabbed his pillow, ready to just go back to sleep.

His phone pinged with a notification.

He reached it and turned it on.

_hey pat sorry if this is random but do you want to come over today? its okay if you arent tho but we can just bum around and stuff_

Patton's face scrunched up in confusion.

Then he remembered everything.

_Oh._

He got up immediately, and started getting ready. Even if he felt a tiny bit exhausted, he wouldn't disappoint Virgil all because he was slightly cranky. Besides, that Logan guy was still out there, and just the sneering look on his face made Patton want to punch him.

_Sure!_

He slipped on his shoes and, quietly as he could, opened the garage door. They wouldn't be happy if they found him in the garage, technically, and he had to have found a way of opening it without making any noise. In this process, he became almost an expert at opening his garage door without making any noise. He slipped out and began making his way to Virgil's flat.

After a quick walk, he reached the flat and knocked. Virgil answered, dressed in a black t-shirt with a striped long sleeved top underneath and black jeans. 

"Uh, hey, Pat."

"Hey! Sorry for responding late, I forgot to check my phone."

"That's fine, um. How are you after last night?"

Patton stopped himself from breathing heavily. "Oh, that? I'm fine, Virgil! You don't have to worry too much about it. So, what are we going to do?"

"I was just thinking we kind of...chill! Watch movies, and stuff."

"Seems great!"

Patton went inside and into the family living room. It was rather basic: just a medium sized sofa, a coffee table, carpet and pillows, some plants here and there and the huge amount of vintage DVDs that went up to the walls. One would suppose it was a family thing: hoarding, either in emo or gothic subculture, and being ridiculously tall. It was hard to navigate and focus on one thing, because something just as bright and curious was right next to it.

Of course, the majority were horrors and thrillers.

"I was thinking horror, if you don't mind it, but as you can see," he gestured to all the disks. "We don't really have, uh, that much else."

"You know? Maybe I do want to try horror."

"You sure? You don't have to if you don't like that kind of stuff."

"I think it'll be cool!" Patton answered, adjusting his glasses.

The two stood before the wall of discs, even towering over Virgil.

"Well, what do you like?"

"Hm? What does that mean?"

"Well, it depends if you want to lean more on just jump factor, a psychological thriller or a gore fest. You can get something from, like, the 50s to like recently produced. Like, is there some kind of monster, if it's supernatural, or like a killer, or maybe the characters themselves? And some of them are a bit more comedic than more darker ones, so…"

Virgil noticed Patton's face, which could only be summed up as some kind or red confusion.

"...Sorry, I rambled on again, didn't I?"

Patton blinked, as if he was lost in a daze and shook his head. "Oh my Gosh, no! It's nothing to do with that! Um…"

He scanned the discs, until he picked one at random that looked interesting. He stood on the tips of his toes, and tried to reach it. He tried jumping, but that was just as successful as the last attempt.

"Sorry, it's um-"

Virgil, without even trying, grabbed the disc and held it up.

"Is it this one?"

Patton, still lost in some kind of daydream, nodded. "Uh...yeah...thanks."

Virgil turned it over. "Carrie?"

"Yeah! I just thought it looked cool."

"Good choice."

Virgil opened it with what seemed like all the care in the world, and put it into the (with the technology to compare to now,) retro TV. The two sat back and grabbed the remote at the same time.

Virgil's hand turned from ice cold to a kettle. Patton turned even more slow.

The two pulled away.

"Oh-I'm, I'm really sorry-"

"No, no, it's just that I thought-"

"You can get it if you want-"

Virgil and Patton stared at each other before, after some time, Virgil reached for the remote and pressed it. The two silently averted their attention to the movie on the TV and sat far away from the other as possible, with Patton's legs on the edge of the arms and Virgil scrunched up into a (still rather tall) small ball in the right corner of the shared seat.

The two started watching the movie, as the camera turned to the girls playing volleyball for P.E.

Patton turned to Virgil, who turned away from Patton.

_He might have something about that Logan guy._

Virgil looked at Patton again, that made him feel odd and turn away again.

_But is this the right time?_

The slow opening scene began, with loving music playing through the girls' changing room and Carrie having a shower. 

He didn't really get why so many people were obsessed with these kinds of scenes. His parents didn't exactly encourage it, but they also pushed it forward, stating that "every real boy your age becomes a man with a child for the family". But Patton didn't really get it. Sure, they were all pretty and attractive and had "good" bodies, but he didn't feel...anything, seeing naked girls shower or getting undressed. To him, it was just that: girls getting ready. It wasn't anything special, so why did everyone say that it was to boys like him?

He probably just wasn't mature enough. That's all.

"So...are you planning to go hunting again?"

Virgil turned. "Yeah? You don't have to come if you don't want to. After last night, I don't think you'd want to-"

"Virgil, I promise you I'm fine! It was just a bit of a scare, that's all."

"I was thinking of another place, though. It doesn't have any surprise well-things, and it's solid."

"I'll come!"

The two were interrupted by the screaming of Carrie White as tampons were repeatedly thrown at her. They slowly looked back at the other one at the end of the sofa.

"You will? Really?"

"I can assure you that lil' ol' Pat isn't made of glass. I'm sure it'll be fine." Patton insisted.

"So, should we meet at the Starbucks? We can just get some coffee and go."

"Seems nice. At five?"

"At five it is."

They smiled for what seemed like too long and returned to the film. For the most part, it was quiet except for the reactions to the film. The biggest reaction was when Billy slaughtered the pigs with an axe to gather the materials for Chris' prank.

Patton gasped a bit too loudly, white faced and clutching the seat. Virgil snickered.

"Not a fan of animal violence?"

Patton shook his head.

Virgil reached out assuringly. "Don't worry, there isn't any more after this scene." Patton leaned in a little closer, and Virgil started to shuffle until they were a slightly less longer distance apart.

There were screams, gasps, yells and laughs at the TV screen before the sniffles coming from Patton as the playing music came out.

"They-she was just doing fine! Why did they-ah..?"

"How was it? Did you like it?"

"Oh no, I loved it but it kinda hurt." Patton replied, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes.

He couldn't really tell, but he could sense Virgil staring at him like he had just conjured gold out of thin air.

"What? Have I got something on my face? Oh, wait, it's probably my nose, sorry. It gets a bit red when I'm a bit upset." Patton mindlessly mumbled.

"You- uh, look...good. With your glasses off."

Patton stared at Virgil.

"Not like! You don't look good with them! I think you look- you look really, really, nice with them on, but- you look…? Great. Without them."

Silence.

"I...can't see that great without them. I might as well be blind without them!" Patton lightly chuckled, putting them back on.

He almost forgot-

"Anyways, I have a...question to ask about last night."

Virgil looked up from checking his nails. "Uh- yeah. Shoot it."

"Well, that, Logan guy…did he do anything before he pulled me up? I could hear you talking...but I couldn't hear anything."

"Him? Oh, yeah."

\---

_Virgil's breath was basically leaping in and out of the fucking window._

_He tried to reach Patton's hand, but he just wasn't strong enough. He couldn't even reach Patton, is this how weak he was? The ground beneath him was slightly damp, his knees digging into the wet Earth. His sweat was cold and his fingers were red raw from stress and trying to pull him up._

_"Virgil, behind you!"_

_Virgil turned around and almost jumped down to Patton._

_He saw a stranger behind him- no, two of them. They looked about seventeen at least._

_The one in front of the other (the one with the glasses,) waved a hand up._

_"Salutations. I'm not going to hurt you."_

_Virgil, curious but still rather messy, just looked up at him._

_The stranger then looked closer. "Anxiety attack?"_

_He nodded._

_He kept his distance. "Okay. Can you name me five things you can see?"_

_"I- um,...the trees, my hoodie, the ground the...the...stone bricks, and your shoes."_

_"Now, name me four things you can touch."_

_"My...my torch, my sleeves, leaves and my face."_

_"Three things you can hear."_

_"You, me and rustling."_

_"Two things you can smell."_

_"Dirt, and alcohol…?"_

_He looked puzzled, before he checked himself and sighed. "And one thing you can taste."_

_"Coffee."_

_The stranger adjusted his square glasses. "Right. Is it okay if I offer you a hand."_

_Virgil shook his head. The stranger held out a hand._

_With steady hands, he clasped his and pulled himself up, surprised at the stranger's seemingly tough grip._

_"And what is the situation?"_

_"My friend...my friend, he's-"_

_"Take your time. It's alright."_

_Virgil took a breath. "My friend, he's stuck in some kind of well?"_

_He groaned. "I apologize. It's the council's fault that they don't mark them. Where is it?"_

_Virgil pointed downward._

_He turned to the other boy, blindly standing there and occasionally stumbling despite nothing to stumble on. "Are you sober enough yet to do anything, or are you still wasted?"_

_"Well- well duh, four eyes! No!" The other boy replied._

_"Take out your phone and give us some light."_

_The other one pulled out his phone and scrolled._

_"Psh, Remy's gone about sucking another guy's cock. How many has it been this time huh? How many men have you seduced, you twink?" He half yelled at his phone, but also giggled childishly at._

_"Roman, for the love of whatever God you believe in, shut up."_

_"Okay, okay, okay! Lemme just…"_

_A light appeared from his phone._

_"Thank you."_

_Virgil and the stranger peered down into the limepit. The stranger, colder than ice stared down into the well, eyes unblinking and the colour of ink._

_"He's down there, I just can't pull him out."_

_The stranger tutted, noticing the bricks. "I can see that. Is he concussed in any way?"_

_Virgil thought about the wound. But then again, Patton had insisted it was just a scratch, and anxiety was much less of a trustworthy source. Besides, Patton wasn't a liar, was he? "Uh...no, I don't think so."_

_"Right. I'll see what I can do."_

_The stranger reached down and grabbed something. Virgil could swear he saw a scowl on his face, or maybe he just had a bad case of resting bitch face like Virgil sometimes had._

_The stranger pulled Patton up, the blood gone and his hair and clothes a mess, with half of his body stained with dirt. Virgil immediately knelt down to him._

_Patton's eyes were still stuck to the strangers._

\---

"Not much. I mean, apparently...Roman? had something to do with Logan bu-"

"Thanks, Virge. I might have to go for a bit." Patton started making his way out.

Virgil got up. Wait, wait, wait-"Wait- Pat, I might, uh- I want to ask you something as well."

Patton turned and cocked his head. "Yes, Virgil?"

"I...I...do you want to…?"

"Do I want to what?"

"Do you want to...do you want to go to my mum's gallery...?"

Wait fuck wrong words-

"When?"

"When? Um...when..ten, in the morning." Virgil spluttered, screaming inside.

"Sure! I'll check it out! See you later, then." Patton hugged Virgil and went out.

Once the door closed, Virgil started cursing.

He was so close- so close he could taste it. He still didn't know where Patton lived, so that seemed impossible, and he didn't want to seem like some kind of stalker like them. Why was he having such a gay panic? He'd been out for four years! Though not to Patton, though. It could still account as a baby gay, but that? That was just poor.

He flopped back onto the sofa, angrily staring upward.

Then he couldn't help but blush. They had their first hug, and Patton was surprisingly warm and safe.

\---

Patton was ready to stab a bitch.

Knives? Well...screw them. Also, he didn't need knives, they were for cooking, and stuff. He could do it himself. He burst into the Starbucks, alerting a frantic Remy on the counter.

"Remy!"

"What- I mean, hey babe, but what's the big deal-"

"Do you know someone called Roman? Roman, is that ringing a bell?"

Remy slowly removed his glasses, brown speckled eyes peering above them.

"What the- how did you know about-"

"Please, Remy! It's important."

The guy in question cleared his throat and answered. "Why do you want to know?"

"I- it's... it's private, okay?"

"Wait a second- wait a...no. Surely not, surely- there's no way. Oh my God."

"...What…?"

"You- did you go to Toni McLyres party? And get drunk? And fucking stoned?" He leant in for a whisper. "Patton Hart, did you fuck Roman Moriyama?"

Blush spread on his cheeks. "Wait, what? What? No! No, no! I don't! Why would you think that?"

"Well, too bad bitch, he's taken." Remy pulled out his phone. "He's got this kinda stodgy boyfriend who is kind of my type, but it's the attitude for me. He's like some kind of boulder, that guy. Or an old calculator. That seems more accurate."

"I haven't had...I haven't done the thing with Roman. Now can you please give me some information about him and Logan?"

Remy leaned in, a Cheshire grin on his face. "How'd you know his name?"

"I- we...we met in a forest on a hunt. They were going home together."

"Oh I think they were doing a lot more in that forest, honey."

"Remy-!"

"What? Just being honest. Theatre kids are wild at a party, sweetheart. They may seem innocent but once they get pissed, oh, they're a whole different breed. Though that nerd probably was all like 'oh, we can't, it's public blah blah blah.'"

Remy got out his phone, tapped a few times and shoved his Instagram account in Patton's face. "Roman Moriyama. Seventeen, gay as fuck, tops, goes to this dumbass school called Lucia Court, theatre is in his blood, he goes to a local theatre group called Cardinton Theatre, makes really good cocktails, and a total bitch."

"...How do you know he tops?"

Remy turned the colour of a beet. "None of your business. Also my gay senses tell me so. Do you want the info or not?"

Patton closed his mouth.

"Thank you. If you want details about what he's like in bed, I will be happy to-"

"I don't want to have sex with him, Remy! I'm straight! I don't feel anything towards boys and I won't ever! I like girls and I will only ever like girls! I'm not going to date a boy ever, and I never will!"

Remy paused for a bit, sunglasses covering his eyes. He then put his hand on his jaw and said, "Okay, I get it. Is that all you need?"

Patton got up. "Yeah...thanks, Remy."

Remy watched as the boy left and sighed. "Hope he gets out of that quickly."

Patton quickly left the Starbucks, blood pumping through his ears. It didn't matter if it was stupid or silly, he'd charge right over there and confront him. He got on the bus, sat in the nearest place he could find and started scratching his seat, head against the window. He just wanted to get it over with. If he got it over with, then nobody would get hurt, right? He could do something good. He could be good. He could-

He noticed the seat start to tear, his nails digging into the material. He pulled it away and put it in his trouser pocket.

It didn't matter how long he had to wait, or how he did it. Maybe, just maybe, if he tried to do something good, some of his sins could be washed off and he could be judged accordingly and not be sent to Hell. Maybe he could be back in his room, or in the house. Maybe, Hell, maybe his mother could-

He wasn't...he wasn't gay. He wasn't that stupid. A Christian guy who liked guys? What kind of hypocrisy was that? He could only like girls, surely! He didn't...he didn't…

The bus stopped, and Patton snapped back into reality. He slinked off and started walking around aimlessly in the bigger city, the shops and flocks of people overtowering him.

_They knew he was bad. They knew what he was. They knew everything about you._

How long had it been? The sky had started to turn dark. He kept on walking, not facing the sneers and the laughs.

_Look at the little fag! He doesn't even know what he likes! Aww, what a confused bitch, not even knowing that he's a cock sucker._

_I heard he's so disgusting even his mother kicked him out the house._

_Well too bad, he's hiding in the garage because he can't face something without someone holding his hand._

He could hear them laughing. They were laughing so loudly.

_Oh yeah! And don't get me started on his Aunt! She's a total creep!_

_At least he has one worthy trait: being her little China doll while she watches him! He's that much of a little wind up boy that he's secretly thankful that somebody takes notice of him even if it's in his sleep!_

Someone was brushing against him. It was her. It was _her_. 

He turned a sharp right, a small alleyway next to an Italian restaurant, and hid behind a bin and started bawling. His nose was clogged up, his mind fuzzy and his vision blinded by tears which steamed up his glasses. Something wet was all over her jacket. He put his nail to his hand, ripping off the top and chewing down on the nub. 

He then proceeded to turn his hand, palm downward, and start to slowly bite it off.

He heard loud footsteps on concrete coming closer. "Hey- hey! You stupid little kid! You-"

Patton shoved them away, half sobbing and a mess, shivering and hugging himself. His glasses were half slid off his face, but at this point he couldn't care less. He had his hand to his mouth, teeth biting down.

"Kid-"

The sound of bones breaking could be heard once Patton gave them a swing at the face. They stumbled, clutching their face and inhaling through their teeth. 

"Shit! What the Hell-"

"Not a fucking word! You're not going to say a fucking word!" Patton screamed, wiping his nose. He could feel blood trickle down his fingers into the floor, sticking his fingers together.

The stranger stood there, dressed in a plain black jumper and round glasses a bit like Pattons with a scarf wrapped around their neck. Their flask had been dripping everywhere, and Patton figured out what the stain on his shoulder was.

"Go! Just go!" He yelled. The stranger quickly walked off, which turned into a run once he left the alleyway.

Patton sighed and then felt his blood run cold. Why was he even here again?...He couldn't remember. Gosh, he was stupid, wasn't he?

He crouched for minutes, which turned into hours behind that bin overflowing with greasy cardboard and half eaten buns. He then took a breath in, wiped away the steam on his glasses and started walking.

Huh. That was strange.

He swore that the streets were busy before.

He walked past empty shops, all pitch black on the inside and the once sweaty crowd gone that left him in the numbing wind. Street lights flickered, the only source of light he needed. The sound of hollow footsteps filled the now ghost town and he sat by at the bus stop. It turned into a slouch until he curled himself up on the bench.

He waited. And he waited.

But the bus didn't come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise it won't be this edgy! Alot of this is actually just kinda cracky and fluffy, I promise (maybe). But, we need all the plot to happen for that kinda stuff to begin. You might have to endure pain to taste sweetness.


	4. School Day? School Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a school day. That's it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have three essays kicking my ass, so I apologize.

Waking up in a shed wasn't the best way to start his day.

It was on the behalf of his own foolishness. He had nobody to blame but himself for the disaster that had been last night. He blinked a few times, eyes drooping downward. Gladly, everything seemed intact and no severe damage had been done. He reached for his watch.

Luckily, he had time. He still got up early despite certain natural interruptions.

So, he got up, got ready and surveyed himself in a bucket full of water from the hole in the ceiling. He looked even worse than yesterday, if that was even possible.

Holding his head with one hand, he unlocked the door with the free one and walked out into the watery late afternoon air. His face curled up in discomfort as his bare feet touched muddy grass with morning dew. Trying not to step in muck, the boy slumped back into the apartment building, quietly unlocking the door and promptly collapsing on his bed after he fumbled with his keys.

God, the hard wooden floor of the shed was so discomforting that even he succumbed to a slob once he touched his bed. It wasn't usually this bad.

He had prepared everything beforehand, when he took the day off, and everything should be fine for another couple of weeks.

_A shower ought to help._

A few seconds later, Logan was in the shower, sighing while the hot water hit the top of his head. His eyes were still seconds from closing, and the world slowly started tuning out until his head was nodding-

He jolted and splashed his face. If there was one thing he wouldn't succumb to, it was idleness. That was the one thing he prided himself on. After freshing himself up, he went over to the rather small mirror and grabbed his toothbrush. He eyed himself in the mirror, wishing that somehow he looked decent for school.

He saw something else instead.

A gasp got caught in his throat, and he blinked. It was gone, and it was only his disheveled self in the reflection, wide ink eyes staring in horror.

He rushed back to his room, towel wrapped around his waist, and got out his phone, charging by his bedside. He hammered in a few letters on Google. He hadn't checked the schedule, he was too preoccupied with Roman. God! Why was he so loose recently? The page loaded Logan almost gagged once he saw the chart.

Two. This month.

_Two._

That couldn't be right, right? This was just an awful prediction, right? He loaded it again. The same results. He scrolled through different sources. Same results.

He felt his head tilt and slosh around in his head, his breath catch short.

...Actually.

That would explain so much. Why he felt so much worse, why he was so much more irritable and a general mess. He compressed a scream of anger, since logical composure calmed down the flames. Instead, he felt cold and rather hollow, like it had already burnt down. It was rather ridiculous that he hadn't already guessed that. He wasn't a gaping idiot, was he?

Logan kept the date down on his phone.

Huh, a bit funny. 

It was right on Halloween.

This was a rather cruel joke, wasn't it? All because of something he didn't do. Something he didn't see, hear, know or even exist at that point had completely screwed him over, making him doomed from the start of life. A lost cause; it was inevitable. So why even try-

He slapped the side of his head.

_Pitying yourself won't get you anywhere, Logan_ , he firmly told himself. He couldn't dwell over things he already knew. All he could do is get on with it. He wouldn't let those scumbags get to him in the slightest.

Especially _her_.

Logan actually liked the school uniform, and he was pretty sure that all the others did too, but wouldn't admit it because of social pressure.

A black blazer and grey trousers (or skirt, depending on who it was,) with a white shirt and a rather nice shade of crimson tie. It didn't have to be anything flamboyant (unlike the other schools in the area who thought it necessary to have as many zeros on their uniform as possible, even if they came up with the most revolting designs,) since it wasn't made to do that. 

He straightened his tie and felt the urge to just climb back into bed. 

He listened if anyone was hearing, or had the slightest possibility. 

No one.

Slowly, he got down on his bed and did a very impressive confused sigh. Why was he doing this? He had no idea. And if anyone saw this or recounted this, God would strike him dead first. He put the covers over him and stared up at the ceiling.

His eyes blinked back and suddenly he could hear mu- Miss Berry leave.

Leaving? Leaving for what, work- oh _fuck_.

Logan checked his watch and internally screeched.

He frantically adjusted his glasses and leapt out of bed, grabbing his bag and dashing out the building and running as fast as his legs could carry him.

He passed strangers walking by, not phased by him because of the school uniform (who hasn't done the run before?). After the mess that was the road and pathways only built for the city alone, he ran towards the black iron gates of his school, the red brick and old building that stood out like a sore thumb among the modern school theatre and neighbouring shops across the road.

"Logan! I didn't expect you to be this late!" Rang a familiar voice near the gate, checking his phone. A young man with light brown hair who was famous for wearing ties all the time kept his muddy eyes to the screen.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Spare the apologies, just be glad that you came in on time," he huffed, sliding the phone into his cream coloured jeans. The two headed inside, and up the main wooden staircase, with astray blazers abandoned on the floor.

The pair turned right and opened the fifth door on the row to a very loud class in usual chaos. Crumpled paper balls and pens thrown in the air, feet on desks, makeup parlours set up and loud yelling filled the packed air. Roman looked up from his conversation and waved.

Logan shyly waved back.

"Madeline, please put the makeup away- Zach get your feet off the desk! For Christ's sake, this isn't a park...Akanksha if I see that football one more time it's going in the bin-"

"Oh, but sir!" Zach fake wept, gesturing in protest.

"No buts, Zach." He snapped back, sitting down onto his chair and opening up his computer. It's almost near the end of the week, so you'll get to fuss around then, not here. Anyways, register, focus. Kiko?"

As he went down the list, Logan checked his bag if he forgot anything, and wanted to thank the Gods that he had everything.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Roman mouthing words to him.

Logan's face scrunched up in confusion.

Roman, clearly frustrated, started mouthing more, but it only made less sense.

"Roman! You can leave the talking outside, not here."

"...Sorry."

The boy rocking his chair up and down next to Roman, Leo, snickered, to which the drama king next to him tripped him over.

The classic annoying bell rang and the students wildly ran out, scrambling and pushing each other to go mess around in the hallways. Roman immediately waltzed to his boyfriend.

Logan turned, eyes tired under glasses. "Yes, Roman?"

"Right, finally! Only took so long, jeez! Anyway, I wanted to talk about last night."

He wanted to what-

"You! Get to class!" A teacher yelled, stalking the hallways like some kind of ghost. Roman turned to her, about to come up with some witty comeback until he saw her stare like icy knives. He began walking the opposite way Logan was headed, eyes turning between him and her and quickly spluttering, "And it's not anything bad if you don't want to talk about it, but I was just wondering why you, y'know-"

His voice disappeared as he walked off into another corridor almost cartoonishly.

"You too, Logan." She snapped.

Logan sighed and headed off to his next class, the doors and periods memorized.

Mathematics. What could be wrong with mathematics? Well, it wasn't better than science, but a very close second.

He sat down at his seat by the back and began copying down what was on the board. The lesson was mainly a nice silence, only the sound of scratching pens and questions and answers being heard for his ears. After form, his ears needed a break. It was just him, and sums. He could do this for ages, just peace and quiet, his mind busy with numbers and such. 

Unfortunately, two hours can fly by when you have fun. Another ring and another pointless lesson passed, English, and Logan was (though he wouldn't admit it,) drained of energy. Though he was always unmotivated after these events, the impending thoughts of not only "Patton" but now two spaces he'll have to keep up with only made it worse.

On the contrary, when it was 12:30, pupils just became feral (now he thought about it, a glorified version of- nevermind). They began screeching, jumping down staircases and pushing for food and ignoring everyone else but themselves. Logan sat by himself on a bench, notes and study books pulled out and splayed on the wooden surface.

Roman slipped by, and took a seat, shrugging off his bag.

"You know, sitting by yourself with that expression really doesn't give people the best impression."

Logan looked up. "I have to revise for History."

"Ms Pratchett is basically blind, she couldn't tell the difference between chicken scratch and handwriting. You'll be fine." Roman commented.

"Shouldn't you be with Toni, and Yuseuf and the rest of your drama band? I thought you stuck together."

"I don't have to look after them, they're not chickens. I want you to have someone to talk to. Besides, I want to bring it up."

Logan's ears pricked. "What up?"

"Last night, when you were all…" Roman's hands stumbled for a gesture to accompany a word. "Panicky...?"

"That's the best word you could come up with?"

"Shush, four eyes. You were stumbling around and pushing me out and...is it the kiss, or did you not feel comfortable or-"

"Roman, I genuinely promise it wasn't you. I was just feeling a little... inadequate, that night. It was probably just...a cold I caught from the day before. It's been raining non-stop, and I forgot a coat on Tuesday." It was a lie, but wasn't too far from the truth. His neck turned red from a strange fusion of guilt and embarrassment.

Roman stared at him with comforting yet concerned eyes. "Are you sure?"

Logan bit his lip. "I am certain."

_Does he not trust me enough?_

The pair sat in silence before Roman pulled out a tupperware.

"Noticed you don't have your food today."

"I do-"

"Really? Check." Roman said, a smug smile on his face.

Much to his pretend annoyance, the Prince was right.

"I can-"

"No, you cannot! You are not skipping out on meals. I also need to get rid of this because this sauce has been in my fridge for God knows how long…"

Roman pulled out a box with fried chicken, covered in a sweet dark sauce. Beneath it was a selection of lettuce and round tomatoes that were clearly very fresh. His boyfriend pushed the box forward, eyes big and round.

Logan glanced into his puppy dog eyes and sighed. "Temptation accepted."

The two happily ate together, enjoying chicken and avoiding the chaotic scene of teenagers wildly messing around in such a chaotic way. Talking about pointless obsessions, bitching about the hated person of the day and pretending that the smallest problems they had were the biggest so far for a few giggles from their respective group. 

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Though it seemed ridiculous and Logan wouldn't admit it, he felt a little weight lift up from his chest and his head clear a little.

He could get through this in a better way. Though the possibility was slim, the small leak of hope seemed like a better alternative than the harsh reality. Logan could just pretend for a little while.

The bell rang, and the final lessons took place: double science. And contrary to popular belief, Roman was actually rather good at science. Great, actually. Though they couldn't see each other in nearly every lesson, this was one of the only ones where they could. And the boy mentioned before made sure that every second was worth it.

The professor didn't really approve, though.

"Roman, for the last time, you need to get back to your seat. I'm not starting another lesson with you next to him." She said, carrying her folder stuffed with papers. Her dark brown eyes were fed up, her hair a mess.

Roman sheepishly moved next to his seat at the end, next to a tall willowy girl with her blonde hair stuffed into a ponytail.

"Get a room, you two."

"Suck a basketball, Isabelle." 

"I'm on the volleyball team."

"I know."

Despite introductions, she really did have a soft spot for the class. The lesson felt like a breeze, good for those who enjoyed socializing and outward interacting and those who rather do the work and contribute in a less verbal way.

The lesson finished, and the pupils walked out, ready to go whatever they decided to do. Smoke, study, get food and drinks for Instagram pictures, it was impossible to pin down where they were all going.

He turned to his boyfriend, smiling as he waved goodbye and he disappeared down the street. His smile faded once he vanished and started walking down alleyways and pathways, where the usual bustling alive town became a ghost one.

And like every town, it has its secret areas.

He stepped past a previous sand pit, now gravel and the sand long gone. Compared to the ever changing modern buildings, no one would have predicted it would be in Cardinton.

On unstable concrete, areas dug up and stones spilling everywhere, sat an old abandoned playground set, if one could call it that. A once multi coloured metal playset for toddlers was almost chipped of paint, and replaced with black Sharpie graffiti, and half of the bridge was broken. The metal slide grew rusty, slowly decomposing away. The taller swings, with the outside support barely cool blue anymore, hung down on frozen chains, probably the most stable thing here. Old fast food packaging was blown through the wind on the floor like tumbleweeds.

Roman tried to ignore the needles and cigarettes that lay on the corners. 

He got out his phone and waited.

He said he'd be here on time. But, to be fair, the goon never met his promises and always arrived late.

He felt a shiver and something cold touch his neck. 

" _Boo_."

He half screamed and slapped it away.

The cause cackled, high and cruel, a hand over his mouth.

Roman rolled his eyes. "Are you done yet?"

"I'm never done, you wuss." He snickered, looking Roman up and down. "I see mother dearest actually sent you to that school. You look like a sad little wind up boy from 1948 whose just heard that his parents got bombed."

"And you look like a second hand Hot Topic and a garbage bin threw up all over a possum; you're not one to talk. Do you even go to school?"

"Of course I do, you silly goose! Just because I don't look like some high end twat doesn't mean I'm not educated! How's mummy darling been? She still stuck in bed? Or has she stopped wasting away over glass?" He smirked, cooing mockingly.

"Shut up about mum." Roman snapped.

"Only if you actually listen to me." The other one snarled with a sudden sharp tone. "Do I have to cut your eyelids out, or rearrange your brain so it can make sense?"

"You need to get some help, that's what. Conspiracy theories and real life are different things, did you know that? Oh wait, you don't. That's why you got kicked out of that Comprehensive, didn't you?"

"Suck on a rat's cock. It'll do you good, maybe some protein for that shriveled up brain up there." He pulled out his phone and zoomed in on an image. "Look at it again."

"You've probably already done that, and look where we are," Roman spat, leaning in to look at it. "I want some actual evidence, not some...vague picture off the Internet."

"It's not off the Internet, for cumming out loud! This is solid evidence right in front of your eyes, Princey! Why can't you believe your dear little brother for once?"

"Because you can't tell the difference between reality and some knock-off webcomic, that's why. I need actual shit, Remus, not garbage!"

Remus scowled, the shadow reflecting eerily on his red contact lenses, accentuated by circles of dark eyeshadow. He sighed putting his phone back into his leather jacket complete with (obvious) self made lime details and put his sharp fingerless gloved hands into his ripped black jeans, complete with silver chains made of various can tabs.

"What do I need to do, record it? Kidnap you in the dead of night and tie you up and force open your eyes so you can witness it? Give a hoe a break."

"Good luck with that, what am I supposed to see? A movie?"

"Well, since you're so stubborn, it's best I just leave. Adieu, fuck you, kiss my ass."

"Just say goodbye for crying out loud."

Remus tutted and started making his way out, leaving his brother alone until he turned around.

"You shouldn't be so cocky, you know."

Roman looked at Remus, the spite and hate slightly peeling back to reveal doubt.

"...I don't think I'm the cocky one here, Remus."

His twin, after a pause, walked on, into an alleyway that covered him in shadow, disappearing as quickly as he came.

Roman stood in the empty park, breathing in the cold air before turning around and checking the word app on his phone for the grocery list, the park empty once again.


	5. Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To try and upload more, some of the chapters will be shorter while others will be alot longer. Enjoy!

Patton woke up to an old man poking him on the shoulder with grubby fingers. 

"Eh? Kid. The fuck you doing?"

Patton got up with a jolt. "Oh…! I am so, so sorry sir!" He shuffled up, and the old man sat down on the bench. "Move your blood ass further, can't even sit properly like this."

The younger of the two shuffled further and the old man swung his legs up on the bench, a cigarette in hand.

"Fuckin' kids and their disrespect towards their elders. Should be licking my feet instead of shooting up one." He mumbled to himself. Through an awkward silence, Patton opened his phone to check what he looked like. Or, to be more correct, how the rough sleep had taken its toll.

Dried blood was running down his mouth, his cheeks stained and dirty from tears. His usual rings of blonde hair became tangles, his tan skin faded and his eyes dull and shallow. His cheeks turning crimson, he quickly brushed away the blood and tears and then saw the plethora of messages and missed calls from virtually all of his contacts.

That's when he started panicking and remembered everything.

He began trembling a little, clicking on the messages.

_hey pat im here_

_pat? are you coming?_

_i can send you the details of you forgot_

_patton?_

And five missed calls.

He was fucked. He was so, so fucked. His left knee began jumping up and down, and he rushed his finger in his hair. 

The time was 06:58, and the buses came at 07:00. He had to come back and apologize as quickly as possible.

He lingered on Virgil's messages, before texting.

_Hi Virg! I'm so so sorry about forgetting to come with you, since I was so busy with homework. I hope you're okay, and I'm still really sorry._

"Who you talking to?"

The boy looked up to see him staring down at the screen, trying to catch a glimpse, smoking cigarette in hand.

"A friend," he cooly responded, sending the message and getting his hand out of his hair.

"Yeah, fuckin' right. Is it a hookup or a dealer?"

"It's a friend, sir." Patton reiterated, feeling himself get frustrated.

"In this age, every kid is one of the two. They're all brainwashin' another on those tiny screens of yours. Everyone is just a lazy ass pig, like somethin' outta movie. Only a few real people out there now. Which one are you kid? On something right now? I bet it's marijuana. No, wait, itt crack, isn't it?"

"I've never taken anything in my life, sir."

"Stop being so fuckin' annoying and prissy, you little brat, with your sirs and your stroppy attitude. God, no fuckin' respect for anyone in this day and age. This generation's just a fuckin' failure for our society; no respect or decency at all. Stop your fuckin' knee jumping, it's annoying."

Patton complied, smiling through clenched teeth. The man crushed the cigarette with his boot.

"We're not even human anymore. We've just become pigs, or somethin' even worse than that. Non-human slobs, just consuming more and more till we die. Only care about ourselves, in this dog eat dog world."

"Okay, I get it."

The man looked up from his packet. "What?"

"I get it. You were probably a wage slave for ten years, working away at a boring desk job with no motivation to try and fix yourself up so that a girl could like you but you still complain about it anyway. You saw a YouTube video of surviving off your own grain, and thought you could live as an 'independent man' without anyone and realized it's much harder than Facebook photos and holiday camping; so now you stumble around in bars and the streets with nothing to do because you refuse to have any hobbies, hoping that someone will just magically fix your life. _Guess what_? There is no magical person, and there never will be. Complaining about something that you don't take part in because you hoarded all that money you saved up that can last you the rest of your life and criticizing anyone who doesn't have a high end desk job who must rely on 'less professional' jobs to survive is even worse than participating in the system you hate so much. Get your head out of your ass and try having a little sympathy in your world view."

The bus halted ahead of the two, and Patton got up. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the man gaping at him like some kind of sheet ghost. Patton tried to reach for an apology, but he disappeared behind closed doors.

Patton collapsed into the closest seat, all of which were practically empty, and sighed. Great. He just woke up a mess, pointlessly worried great people and insulted a stranger he never knew. He was on a roll today, and will be a total dick by afternoon. He checked his phone again.

_hi pat, im sorry, i just tried calling you because i thought that your notifications were off or something. are you busy today?_

_I'm free today! I'll try to make it up to you._

_oh okay._

He saw the colours flash by in the window again. He could sit there for hours, watching the different things and people walk by in their own fascinating lives like some kind of invisible spectator. Though they all were so different, they all were connected by natural human bond and empathy. They were all people, and that allowed them to thrive.

Too bad he could never have that.

He blinked, and suddenly he was at his stop. He got up and started heading to the public toilets. Patton couldn't let Virgil see him like this; the poor guy didn't need to deal with anymore of his nonsense.

He washed his face in the basin, checked his hair and head out, sitting on a bench and saw a message.

_do you want to come over again? my parents are out on a date._

He thought for a while until he wiped his wet face until he texted back.

_Yeah, I'll be there after school!_

He sighed, and stared at himself in the dirty mirror. His face looked tired and worn out, like some kind of old rag doll. But, a smile could apparently change the whole world, including yourself. They never seemed to mention if it was strained though, but then again he didn't want to ruin the mood with a glare and face that looked as un-Patton as possible.

He dusted himself down, cleaned his glasses, and went off to school. Another day, another set of repetitive lessons that Patton's mind couldn't help but question the importance of. It didn't help that he wasn't the brightest of the bunch, say for sports. Whenever he asked questions, it was a classic "oh Patton!" and a quick laugh, not an actual answer, so he had stopped bothering. He entered the form late, the eyes of twenty so other teenagers on him.

"You're late."

"I'm sorry, miss."

"Just sit down, Patton," his form teacher sighed pulling back her straightened ebony hair. Certain pupils snickered, mainly the team he played with.

"Hey, Pat, why were you so late?" The joked. "You naughty, naughty boy!"

Patton laughed along with them, until the teacher told them to stop.

The day passed in a grey blur, until the bell rang and Patton headed to the apartments, mouth shut. He stood in front of the flat and knocked, a smile on his face.

A few minutes later, Virgil appeared, dressed in a black hoodie with skeleton patterns. He looked down at Patton (not necessarily in an insulting way, he was just tall).

"Hey."

"Hi!"

"...Hey...so, sorry for the wait."

"It's okay, I just arrived a little too early," Patton chuckled. "What do you have planned?"

"Honestly? No idea. I mean, I could find something...to do, I mean." Virgil felt the urge to slap himself in the face.

"There's always something to do, we just gotta find it," Patton responded. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, you don't have to ask that everytime, you know," Virgil smirked back.

"I know, but it's just habit," Patton replied. "Is it okay if I rummage through the drawers?"

"What? Oh, it's fine, but you really don't have to, y'know…"

Patton gasped, staring into a cupboard.

"What is it? Is it a rat?" Virgil grabbed the nearest book, ready to strike. "Just stay still..."

Patton pulled out a bag of flour.

"Guess not."

The other one of the two began searching through the cupboards, before pulling out sugar, butter, a bar of chocolate, eggs, salt, vanilla extract, baking soda and baking powder.

"I've always wanted to make these!" Patton cheered.

"...Cookies? I thought you already made them."

"Store bought mixture doesn't count!" Patton exclaimed. "Besides, they're always better homemade. Atleast that's what everyone says."

After some consideration, Virgil shrugged. "Why not?"

The two began excitedly fiddling over the ingredients, before their faces fell flat.

"Do you know how to make cookies?"

"...No. Do you?"

"Me neither."

"...We can always guess? It can't be that hard, right?"

A few minutes later, the counter was covered in flour, several eggs were in the bin and several more weren't, and the butter had somehow gotten onto the fridge. On a tray rested eight black monstrosities faintly resembling circles, the chocolate acting like a glue sticking it to the tray. The two, covered in sugar, glanced at each other.

"...Never allow me to bake again."

"Note taken."

The two began cackling, doubling over at the sight of each other, Virgil even paler with the flour, and Patton looking like something had exploded in his face. 

"I'm sorry, but when I- when I saw you, I thought of a chalk stick? I don't know why?"

"Okay, Victor Frankenstein," Virgil smoothly responded. "Shouldn't we try these... things?

With some effort, they scraped off the cookies and placed them on a plate, glancing at the ashy mess before Patton reached for them. With messy fingers, he took one and had a bite.

Much to his disappointment, it tasted of nothing. It was agony, seeing something all over posters and books that looked that good and described as such, and not being able to taste the sweetness and enjoyment that someone else could. Even if they were burnt to a crisp. He tried to guess what it would have tasted like, since Virgil's face was clearly looking for an answer.

"It's actually not that bad."

"Really?" Virgil stated, almost shocked.

"You can try one for yourself," Patton pushed the plate forward.

Virgil bit into one, and immediately gagged. He grabbed a tissue and spat into it, trying to wash off the contents with a glass of water, much to Patton's chuckling.

"What the Hell...oh my- how can you eat this?"

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"It's somehow raw and overcooked, we've literally created an anachronism."

"One for the books then. It's its own species." Patton replied. "We have our own cryptid."

"Yeah, we also might need to clean up," Virgil said, looking at the damage. "Are you better at that?"

"Yeah, I know so."

After a while, the kitchen looked sparkling new, much to Virgil's surprise.

"I asked if you were better at it then cooking, not how impressive you can make it ."

"Aw, shucks. Thanks, Virge." Patton blushed, rubbing the back of his head.

"...You know, why don't we go over to yours?"

Patton paused. "Hm?"

"Not that we have to, but I'm just curious. We always hang out at mine, and if you're fine with it, we could go to yours?"

"Oh, I don't think my mum would let me. She's picky about the place," Patton replied, smiling wildly.

Virgil could sense the strain. 

He chose not to mention it.

"We can always go hunting again, back at the place. No limepits, no nothing."

"Is it in Cardinton?"

"Close, right on the border."

"Sure, then!"

Why was that necessary?

"At five?"

"At five."

"I might have to go back home to get my stuff." Patton said, beginning to head out.

"It's cool," Virgil called out to the corridor, Patton sliding on his shoes. "See you!"

Patton closed the door behind him, leaving Virgil happily smirking on the couch alone.

Patton breathed deep breaths as he started heading back. Okay, the best thing to do was to just try and carry on. Though he desperately wanted to confront Logan, he had already screwed up enough in just a couple of hours. 

He got to his house, and snuck into the garage, opening the door.

Patton stopped dead in his tracks.

_And he didn't want the possibility of screwing up again._

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
